Attempts at atonement

But first, more confessions...

In addition to my clothes shopping spree yesterday, I indulged the children as well. When I picked them up at school, we had an impromptu playdate which morphed into a visit to the ice cream parlor. And if you're at the ice cream parlor (www.Izzysicecream.com) , you are only a few storefronts away from the best train store ever, Choo Choo Bob's (www.choochoobobs.com) . Lately, I've been keeping the kids outside the store, watching the awesome model railroad sets run. And if you go into the train store, chances are you'll spend lots of time at the 6 back tables set up with all things Thomas, Brio, etc. An hour later as the kids are playing, you've had a nice chance to catch up with another grownup, and you're getting ready to leave but feel like you should buy something. (For some reason I put it in the same category as the imagined obligation to buy something or other when you use the rest room at a gas station.)

I've talked to the guys that run the place, and they admit that 80% of their actual sales aren't to parents that bring their kids to play, it's to the grandparents of said children. So I rationalized a small toy for each of them. L picked out a miniature set of Lincoln logs that fits in a small can - perfect for tucking away in my purse and whipping out when we need a small activity (restaurants, mostly). And X is all about the Legos: a little ATV kit with a figure. We're talking about $11 total, but we know it's not about the money, right? I guess I felt a tad guilty after buying unwarranted stuff for myself, so why not compound the error?

I know, I know. It's not exactly logical thinking on my part. But honestly - the hour or so of kids engrossed in their new toys pales pretty quickly in the face of the less-than-thrilled spouse. Bob reminded me that if I'm indulging them too much, he doesn't get to do it at all. Sigh.

Insult to injury? The hours that X spends with the Lego catalog saying "I want this set and that set and that set." And today, both kids sulked because I wouldn't take them to ice cream or Choo Choo Bob's. Indulging them leaves them feeling more entitled, whereas sticking to the deprivation approach means they eventually stop whining. One slip, I've wiped out my gains. And intermittent reinforcement is stronger.

My penance today: an entire trunkload to Goodwill, loads of recycling, and a giant bag of stuff in the trash. The alleviation of guilt should occur any moment now...

Thud.

Did anyone notice an atmospheric disturbance today? Sort of a sonic boom?? Yeah, that was me. Falling off the wagon.

Just to show you how disorienting back-to-school is, I was facing an ENTIRE DAY from 8 to 2:30 - with nothing scheduled. Adding to my novel freedom - the house was clean. Minimal laundry remained. Way too many projects but not much motivation to even choose one, much less complete it. What to do?

My dear friend Nina was up for 'lunch & whatever' but just had to make a trip to Kohl's to see if there were any must-have's. She had a coupon. There were sales. I didn't need anything in particular, so I thought I'd just be the helpful friend / comic relief.

(This is where I was going to write an amusing anecdote about Nina's shopping history. She begged me not to.)

The first thing I put in the cart I didn't intend to buy, really, but it was such a nice shirt for Bob, and I didn't get him anything for our anniversary and obviously had some unresolved guilt issues. I thought I'd just wander around with it for a while, before I wisely reconsidered. Bob is one of those people who really doesn't get excited about "gifts & crap" - he's equally noncommittal if I spend a bunch of time/money on the perfect whatchamacallit or just find something interesting at a yard sale. But some of his shirts could stand to be retired... So the justifications went.

Nina loves a bargain more than I do. She cruised the clearance racks - 60 to 80% off, plus she had a coupon for an additional 30% off. My math skills are kinda rusty, but doesn't that mean they owe you??? Lots of great deals, happy colors, but I resisted. For the first couple of hours.

We all have our limits. Not only did I meet mine, I invited it in for a nice long chat of mostly justifications. My tipping point? Dana Buchman.

Now I haven't shopped higher end stores for a while - or strayed from under my rock - so she was new to me. And I simply wasn't aware that she was designing exclusively for me. Seriously - colors, cut, fabric - I squealed. Repeatedly. And once that first dress was off the clearance rack and in the cart, others followed. Just like going off a diet and figuring after the first feedbag of cookies (hands free!), what's another 2 or 3? One sweater. Three tops. A glorious dress. All unbelievably cheap.

I EVEN FOUND A PAIR OF JEANS. This was a miraculous happening indeed.

I was heady with the hypomanic high of misbehavior. We had a heap at the checkout. And, surprisingly enough, I had little remorse. I joked about at least I'd have something to blog about...

Sound too good to be true? Yup - coupon wasn't good til tomorrow. They've got my things on hold; giving me nearly a full day to reconsider. Or re-justify.

So... Gentle Reader, should I walk away? What is this project worth? The jury is still out on this one. Operators are standing by.

And, oh yeah, they open at 8.

Unhinged

Apparently all the heady freedom of back to school week has warped my perspective. After my brief appearance at work today I stopped by my favorite thrift store. I found a belt for X, one of those ubiquitous braided leather ones that has no actual holes so that will make things easier for him. Hadn't really considered the differences in belt technology before... I found a great pair of shoes for X - barely worn ankle boots. And for L I grabbed the Phillip Pullman trilogy for a whopping $5.40. I love reading novels to the kids. We'll be taking a break from Harry Potter.

It's kind of amusing to look back a year or two, and I remember being at a bookstore and dithering over whether-or-not to purchase those very books. I was so proud of myself for the restraint, at the time. Now I almost feel guilty for purchasing them second-hand, because they aren't exactly necessary. (But awesome! Still trying to decide if I should see The Golden Compass film...)

My honey-do list today included getting replacement hinges for the bathroom cabinets. At Ikea.

Ikea is new to our part of the world, but mythological proportions in the collective consciousness of 30-somethings from back East who thrive on cheap furnishings. When it opened here, it was mobbed for months. I'm not much of a crowd person, so I avoided it for quite some time. Today, it was almost pleasant, meandering and looking at all the cool designs and vivid colors.

Other than the hinges, I was charged with getting a garlic press for my friend Nina. But I didn't make it out of housewares unscathed... I have been missing my kitchen shears for some time, and the empty hole in the knife block mocks me as I still reach for them almost daily. At $1.99, I doubt these will do much more than fill the void. But I bought them anyways. So there.

I wandered through the children's section and picked out a couple of small stuffed mice (one white, one grey) , $1.49 each. For absolutely no good reason. The kids loved them and treated us to a puppet show this evening. X named his Ruffles and L has yet to decide. Stay tuned.

After wandering the huge expanse of Ikea in my dress-up heels, I had some wicked blisters. By the time I made it to Returns, I was no longer in a great, expansive shopping mood. The line was long and my blood sugar low. Not a good combination.

The earnest "co-worker" in the unfortunate yellow polo was very sweet - looked at the hinge, vanished briefly, and returned with two replacement ones free of charge. Huh. Didn't see that coming. But it's Ikea, which is the Swedish version of Walmart, and it's easy to overindulge.

I limited myself to one cinnamon roll for the drive home. Mission accomplished.

School daze

We've made it to Day 2 of school. X is fairly excited about Kindergarten, while L is already whiny about homework that hasn't yet been assigned... Stay tuned.

Part of the fun this first week is that I usually miss (when I'm up north volunteering at Camp Knutson with a group of mentally ill individuals from our county) - all the First Week of School potlucks, picnics and playdates. So I'm amazed at how much socializing is built right in, for students and their families. And perhaps I'm figuring out how everyone else seemed so much closer and on the ball.... all along I thought I was either not fitting in, or just wasn't getting it. Behold, the power of paranoia.

The morning of Day 1 was touch-and-go for a bit though - entirely my fault for not actually trying on X's new shorts or seeing exactly what size logo shirts we had. One shirt worked, but the shorts fell down with the least wiggle, which X of course found hilarious. (his comedic repetoire is primarily pratfalls and goofy voices, but pants-falling-down-while running/jumping is a close third) Saved by the belt, which was an off-hand purchase at a garage sale this summer. Not auspicious timing to introduce X to important technology such as belts (which may make the difference between successful toileting and a lifelong supply of playground taunts) , but no pressure, as he's excited about everything right now so to him, it's all good. L had a "newish" jumper with a hemming job that would be kindly described as "incomplete" but was really my half-assed incomplete effort, which featured a needle still in the hem, which L pointed out, with a rather dramatic sigh. Aaaargh.

I stopped by the "Boo Hoo Breakfast" for tepid church-basement coffee and my semi-annual donut. I was focused on trying to get all those names and faces out of mothballs, so I can at least appear socially skilled, which really takes quite a bit of energy. I was contemplating what to do with the (tick tick tick) 3 hours of "free time" before I needed to pick up the kids at 11:30 and head off to a picnic playdate.

Still a tad shaken by our wardrobe malfunctions of the morning, I stopped off at the Uniform Closet where I scored a pair of pants and shorts for X, and another jumper for L. (it's a great resource to check first, before you trot out to purchase new) Since we were in serious need of groceries, my friend Tracey and I decided on a run to SuperTarget. This is the default plan of busy moms everywhere - try to have a visit while doing a necessary errand. Normally, I revert right into girlfriend shopping behavior, but Tracey has tried to do the voluntary simplicity thing too, so it's not exactly as fun as when we'd enable each other. Like two Mormons at Happy Hour - glad to be there, but... something missing in the mix, ya know?

I was sorely tempted to spring for a new wallet (as mine no longer shuts due to its unfortunate trip along River Road - see July's last entry) and a lovely pair of maroon suede Converse, but I backed away slowly while practicing my breathing. I'd like to say that worked, but in the end I was placated by the vicarious pleasure of Tracey buying herself a pair instead. (True confessions: I felt a tad superior, as I walked out with no "no-no's" whereas she opted for a couple that were a little questionable on the simplicity scale. And then those gorgeous sheet sets she wanted at the stunning price of $56 for 450 thread count cotton - I just had to admit I purchased two brand new sets at the Salvation Army for $15 each. That would be the 'skinflint slap', in case we are keeping score. Which we're not. This is not a competition - but having peers to keep you accountable and talk thru the thought processes behind purchasing decisions - truly priceless)

I did wind up having to purchase new school shoes for both kids, but the backpacks and lunchbags are reused, as is the majority of their uniform stuff. I need to come up with Navy blue bike shorts to be worn under the jumper, as L is a bit active and in danger of showing her undies. But I may just cut down some of her blue pants and call it good enough. (might even hem them all the way around. Madness, really.)

So if necessity is the mother of invention, and necessity is manipulated by the marketing whizzes, we moms are left with lots of leeway to figure it all out. And using all the skills and resources available while trying to outfit your kids but teaching them about the actual value of stuff - that one's a real mother.

Curse you, Qubo!

I have fallen prey to the late summer malady of letting the kids watch way too much television. And since the digital revolution, the kids have wandered far from their PBS Kids home. Enter: Qubo. Exit: my sanity.

Blame the digital revolution; we now get more than 3 channels.

Ironic, isn't it? I thought I was investing in my mental health by keeping the kids occupied so I could actually start and complete a project. Now I have a host of new theme songs and crappy tidbits of animation in my head.

But wait, there's more!

Qubo doesn't do your usual commercial breaks. It rotates mini-infomercials every 25 minutes or so. I didn't pay much attention to it, at first.

One day, we're driving somewhere (en route to a thoroughly enriching and developmentally-appropriate children's activity, I'm sure...) and Lily pipes up with the following:

"Mom, do you worry you can't make the mortgage payment???" WTF; she's 7.

That was the beginning. Now I have kids that insist they'd eat more veggies if we just had a Veggie-Bot set that lets you make all these sculptures out of carrots and such. And the
Brownie Magic pan? Apparently a must-have for the grammar school set. What was most disturbing is when they both tried earnestly to make their case why a wall-mounted tooth paste dispenser would help them with their early dental habits... and they'd need two, of course, because L has a preference for cinnamon paste whereas X's palate is more discriminating, calling out for unspecified-fruit-flavor provided it has a SpongeBob on the packaging somewhere.

So, by eschewing commercial tv for their tender years, I have created fertile fields for infomercials. Which they actually watch. And quote, verbatim. For the novelty? Or the simple pleasure of pushing me over the edge?

(Admit it, you're still wondering who actually uses the verb eschew...)

My kids have yet to understand when I say we don't have the money for something, that we can't actually go to the bank and make money appear. But they know how to turn any leftover gold and silver jewelry into cold hard cash.

Sigh.

The Great Minnesota Get-Together

Yesterday was our annual pilgrimage to the Minnesota State Fair. Props to the Rev. Kath, for aiding our spiritual journey and being a fun playmate for the kids and necessary emotional support for yours truly.

Growing up in the suburbs of Western New York, I had heard of the county fair, knew people who went, but just never made it there myself. When I moved to MN in the summer of '91, I actually considered renting an apartment next to the Fairgrounds in St. Paul. It sounded festive... if only for late August thru Labor Day.

We chose a different apartment (a hovel, really) but in a great neighborhood. And that was my first year of going to the fair. I think I've only missed one year since.

The Twin Cities are pretty darned metropolitan (so keep your snide comments about 'flyover country' to yerselves) but never too far from agrarian roots. The U of M was a land grant college that still has a significant agriculture component, boasting an impressive farm and arboretum (home of the HoneyCrisp apple, doncha know). Nowhere is this more evident when city meets country during the Fair.

Best part, hands down, is the people watching. And watching people enjoying people watching, not even being subtle about it. FYI - Minnesota Polite is reserved for the spoken word, only. I love wandering through the cattle barn, with cute 4-H'ers resting nonchalantly on their cows like flatulent ottomans - flirting with other cute 4H'ers - while the city folk parade on past. In between looking at livestock and fighting crowds, the biggest challenge at the fair is what to settle on to eat. It's all fried and fabulously bad for you. Breakfast was a corndog and mini-donuts. It went downhill from there... Hours later I'm crunching Tums and wondering who ate the last cookie from Sweet Marthas.

As the kids have gotten older, they are more adventuresome and a bit easier to handle in crowds. What that translates to, in Fair speak, is the Mighty Mighty Midway - rides and games. Here is a perfect example how you are lulled into complacency while being fleeced. First, the rides all take tickets. But today, they all have signs up saying it's a Family Friendly kind of day, so it's 4 tickets instead of 5 for the fun house. Dutifully, I line up to purchase tickets - half-noticing they cost 75 cents EACH but if you buy a sheet for $30 you somehow save $7.50 which when you figure out it's a mere 10 tickets doesn't seem so swell. But by then you've handed over your charge card to the Lions Club volunteer in the hermetically-sealed booth. And then it's time to try to make a decision on which rides/games - taking in the various factors such as height, attention span, bravery, chiropractic availability and gastrointestinal fortitude - while simultaneously following screaming, sugar-addled kids in a zillion different directions. So handing over the money is actually painless, in comparison. Whack-a-Mole is, however, a pretty satisfying outlet for frustration. As long as you don't do the math and realize you just paid $9 for a goofy plush toy.

For the record, toys won at games of chance are not purchased items per se, and when they say "made of all new materials" I think that's a euphemism they use in the sweatshop where they inexpertly stitch all that crappy styrofoam together. Technically, not a cheat in the voluntary simplicity category. And after about $110, not cheap either. But it's once a year, and never dull.

To quote my friend Nina's paving brick somewhere on the Fair grounds:
"I SO love the State Fair! "